


and they were roommates

by cosmicpoet



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), M/M, Roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-06 06:29:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14636010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicpoet/pseuds/cosmicpoet
Summary: (oh my god they were roommates)Rantaro doesn't want new roommates, but he has to have them. And they're a weird...couple...to say the least.





	and they were roommates

Amami turns up the volume on his stereo as he enjoys his last moments alone in his apartment; within an hour, his new roommates will be showing up, and then he assumes all of his privacy and autonomy will warp itself into unwashed dishes and stupid chore lists. He doesn’t _want_ roommates, but the fact of the matter is that he can’t keep living off his inheritance forever – well, he _could,_ but he’d have to move somewhere smaller than the top floor apartment in a nice area of town.

And the only thing worse than having roommates is leaving this city full of beautiful madness.

The gel pen in his hand trails off on the page, leaving little clumps of glitter where he’s yet to finish writing. It really just started as a way to calm him down, writing out rules that he’ll never tell his new roommates, but the more he thinks about it, the more he realises that he doesn’t necessarily have to be complacent and let these new people walk all over him. After all, he’s still the one paying most of the rent. And surely his new roommates wouldn’t exactly mind following a few rules…

  1. _I will play Ke$ha as loud as I want. You cannot stop this. I am gay._
  2. _If you make fun of me for drinking cocktails whilst holding a 4% alcohol light beer in your hand, I can and will kick you out._
  3. _I’m not suspicious. If you see smoke coming from under my door, don’t assume I’m in a cult or something. The landlord and I have a don’t ask don’t tell policy. You can get in on this if you like._
  4. _On Wednesdays we wear pink (I’m kidding. Kind of)._
  5. _Parties and guests are allowed, it’s a pretty chill place. Just don’t get the police called on us or anything._
  6. _The top shelf of the freezer is my bong shelf. Everything else downwards is free for you to put your shit in._



He sighs. He was trying to cheer himself up by joking around, imagining his new roommates’ faces when they read this set of obviously non-serious rules. But reading them back, he realises that these are all things he enjoys doing in his own apartment; he can’t help it, it feels like his privacy is being ripped from him. And the list isn’t exactly cheering him up, it’s instead reminding him that his freedom to do everything he loves will be restricted from now on.

Still, he can’t really judge the people moving in, not yet. He’s only met them once, and they seemed to be the best out of a bad bunch; he interviewed so many people before realising that he’d never be completely satisfied, so he…settled. And they’re a little cryptic, he’ll admit. Normally he’s worried about coming off as aloof or weird, but these two gave off much of the same vibe. Sometimes in the interview, he’d be convinced that they were a couple, and other times, he’d think that they absolutely hated each other and were moving in together as a dare.

Whatever. As long as they don’t cause tension in his house. It’ll be fine. It’ll be _fine…_

* * *

 

Over the sound of his loud music, he sees his bedroom door open. Startled into silence, he just about manages to turn it off as he sees a small man, around his age, standing in the doorway.

“Hey, I liked that!”

“W-What?” Amami says.

“I was only coming to say your music was _suuuuper_ great,” the man says, “’cause I feel like I’m gonna be hearing a lot of it from now on.”

“Oh, shit, yeah, you’re my new roommate,” he stands up, “I’m Amami.”

“Yeah I know! I’m Ouma, and this,” he reaches beyond the doorway and pulls a slightly startled man into the frame, “is Saihara. My friend-who-is-a-boy.”

“Complicated,” Amami says.

“Not really! Saihara loves me but I’m a liar so I don’t tell him whether I feel the same because it’d be boring otherwise!”

“Right.”

Amami makes eye contact with Saihara, who doesn’t seem to be shocked or even saddened by this statement – his face betrays that this is normal.

“Well you better watch out, Ouma,” Amami says, “’cause I might just steal your man.”

 _“Whaaaat!_ You wouldn’t!” Ouma says, feigning horror.

“I’m kidding! I’m not a suspicious guy.”

“Right,” Ouma says, “’cause suspicious guys _totally_ don’t write in gel pen.”

Before Amami can react, Ouma grabs the sheet of rules from his bed and starts reading it. When Amami goes to grab it back, Ouma passes it to Saihara. With his soulful eyes, and an unreadable expression, Saihara goes to hand it straight back to its rightful owner before he pauses, reading something.

Amami cringes inside.

“Wait…you like guys too?”

“What tipped you off? The Ke$ha, the Mean Girls reference, or the blatant comment that I might steal your heart from Ouma?”

“N-No,” Saihara says, “I just…it’s nice. I’m glad I’m living with someone who g-gets it.”

“Ah.”

* * *

 

When Ouma leaves the room, telling them that he’s going to go shopping to get some, quote, “proper food”, Saihara tells Amami that he most likely means he’s going to buy McDonald's and Panta.

“You, like, willingly put up with him?” Amami asks.

“It’s not so hard,” Saihara says, “I mean, he’s the first real boyfriend…sorry…boy-who-is-my-friend that I’ve ever had. I had a girlfriend before, Kaede, but it didn’t work out. So I guess he’s all I’ve got.”

“Y’know you don’t have to settle, right?”

“I don’t see it as settling. ‘Cause I do love him. And I think…I-I mean I h-hope…he likes me back. It’s just hard with him. He’s got all these bloody walls up around himself.”

“Ah. I get it, I mean, I’ve been in relationships like that before. It’s draining. That’s why I’m happy with being single. Although…you’re kinda cute. Not that I’d want to get in the way.”

“I wouldn’t mind if you did. I think Ouma wouldn’t, either.”

“It’d be weird though, right?” Amami says, lying down on his bed.

“I guess. Maybe at first. But isn’t everything good a little weird at first?”

“Yeah, I suppose.”

When Saihara lies next to him, Amami says nothing. He’s just staring at the ceiling, thinking about how he’s going to have to readjust to this new dynamic, when Saihara reaches over him and turns the music on again. It’s nice to drown out his thoughts in the loud bass, and he thinks that Saihara is probably doing that too.

He knows already that Ouma is a handful. But a problem shared is a problem halved, right? Not that Ouma is a problem, he just…

He reaches out and brushes against Saihara’s hand. It’s a terrifying intimacy between strangers, stuck in a city of lights and bad decisions; all the sticky bar-top counters and speeding taxis jar though Amami’s mind like he’s flicking through television stations until he finds something _right._

And then Ouma is standing in the doorway. Not looking betrayed, or shocked, just…satisfied. Happy.

“Just call me the Ulitmate Matchmaker!”

“W-What! No,” Amami says, “we weren’t…”

“What, you think I’m _actually_ scared of you stealing my boyfriend?” Ouma says, laughing.

“B-Boyfriend,” Saihara echoes, “that’s the first time you’ve ever called me that.”

“Well, I guess we’re moving into a lot of things today,” Ouma drags them both up from the bed by their hands, running with them into the kitchen, “I bought pizza. For _all three_ of us.”

“O-Oh,” Amami says.

Perhaps this isn’t going to be so bad, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked this! My wonderful friend Lusca opened my eyes to the beauty of saioumami so this one's for her!
> 
> Please comment if you liked :^)


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